


Blue Eyes Blind

by colorofmymind



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Arthur Pendragon Returns (Merlin), Bittersweet Ending, Happy Ending Is Implied, Immortal Merlin (Merlin), M/M, Memory Loss, Modern Era, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:54:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28950726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colorofmymind/pseuds/colorofmymind
Summary: Arthur’s gaze narrows and somehow softens simultaneously, seeking something in Merlin’s face.“We’ve met somewhere before, haven’t we?”It’s then all the breath in Merlin’s lungs escapes in a fell swoop, dealing him a greater blow than Excalibur ever could. Truly, there is nothing crueler than this, but, of course, he shouldn’t have expected a kind hand to be dealt by destiny.Kilgharrah promised Arthur would return, but he never guaranteed how much of the king would come back.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 114
Collections: The Melee Challenge





	Blue Eyes Blind

“Hey now, he’s waking up.”

Vision blurry and head still teetering like a spin top, Merlin rouses to find a crowd of people surrounding him from where he’s lying on a patch of wet grass. It feels as though a thousand eyes are trained upon Merlin, though he can only spare care for a pair of irises so painfully, familiarly blue. The same blue eyes he ingrained into his memory 1,500 years ago and yet lately found himself struggling to remember their exact shade and hue, _it’s been so long_ , except when, probably not even an hour earlier, they met his gaze across an unassuming, average public park just eight kilometers off from Avalon. 

Eyes belonging to Arthur Pendragon, the Once and Future King, who was then and is definitely now staring at Merlin in concern. 

As a principle that guided the majority of his life, Merlin normally didn’t stray far from the lake, not wanting to be gone for too long or be too far. Irritational as it seemed, he never knew when the moment would come for Albion’s time of need and thus her king to return. But as Merlin stuffed his hands in his pockets and marched onwards, almost unseeing of the people jogging or pushing strollers past him in amongst the greenery of the park, he looked straight ahead to find Arthur, savior of the five kingdoms of Albion, casually stretching in a red hoodie and tightfitting black track bottoms. And then Arthur looked at Merlin, flashing that crooked smile that could’ve brought Merlin to his knees just to see again. 

Only at the sight of his lost king, his best friend, his _love_ , all the blood promptly decided to leave Merlin’s head, and the world blurred until there was darkness. 

And now there is light—and something else—in those dazzling eyes now. Merlin can scarcely believe any of it is real.

“You alright? You took quite a fall, gave everyone and their mother in the area a fright,” asks the man with Arthur’s eyes and his voice and his everything.

A few faceless others mildly inquire after Merlin’s wellbeing, but Merlin barely acknowledges them, too memorised by the distinct, aquiline nose and blonde hair shining perfectly in the light of the sun. 

Merlin tries to open his mouth to begin to form words—say something, everything he’s been meaning to tell Arthur hundreds and hundreds of years—but his throat is seized up with the weight of his emotion, no sound able to escape. 

“You know, it’s not often I make someone faint _and_ render them speechless,” Arthur quips and _god_ it is really him, isn’t it, not even Merlin’s best fantasies could replicate that beloved arrogance. 

Merlin has no idea what’s going, how Arthur is here already, with him, wearing modern clothes and not speaking Brittonic, a mobile held comfortably in one hand. Water wells up behind his own eyes, and Merlin clumsily rubs at them with the back of his sleeve, attempting to rein it in, regain some sense of control. It’s taking everything within him to keep his magic from spilling out of him to desperately embrace Arthur, to protect him from any person or creature that ever dared to harm him again. 

“I’m sorry,” he manages to croak out, realizing he’s been silent this whole time. 

Merlin hates this, hates looking this weak in front of his king. But he’s so unprepared and there are still a few strangers around them and this isn’t how he imagined Arthur returning in any of his dreams—

“Um, it’s fine,” Arthur says uncertainly, clearly uncomfortable with some aspect of the situation. Merlin hysterically wonders which exact part. 

But Arthur’s gaze narrows and somehow softens simultaneously, seeking something in Merlin’s face. 

“We’ve met somewhere before, haven’t we?” 

It’s then all the breath in Merlin’s lungs escapes in a fell swoop, dealing him a greater blow than Excalibur ever could. Truly, there is nothing crueler than this, but, of course, he shouldn’t have expected a kind hand to be dealt by destiny. 

Kilgharrah promised Arthur would return, but he never guaranteed how much of the king would come back. 

Propping himself onto his elbows while still lying on the grass, Merlin wills himself to speak, voice hoarse from disuse and affected by his distress. 

“You...you don’t know who I am?” 

He has to confirm, has to know for sure, even if the absent look in Arthur’s eyes he couldn’t place before, a telltale sign of unrecognition, is plainly apparent. 

“That’s the thing. There’s something about you, I just can’t…” Arthur trails off, and Merlin vainly attempts to crush the hope that something will spark as the other man muses. “Well, at any rate, I can hardly see how I can forget a face like _that_.” 

There’s a glint of something there in the remark, the monarch’s penchant for mischievousness for sure, but the emphasis isn’t entirely...derogatory. His inflection and Merlin’s inability to figure it out has his stomach twisting itself in knots. 

“Most people remember my ears more than my own name,” Merlin jokes. 

Arthur barks out a laugh—no a guffaw, that’s how he always laughed—and reaches for Merlin, pulling him effortlessly up from off the ground. He feels heady just from gripping Arthur’s hand, warm and alive. 

“And what would your name be?” 

“Merlin,” he says without thinking, so wrapped up in the other man’s presence. God, he should’ve said something normal like Martin or John. For whatever reason, Arthur seemingly is convinced he is of this era, otherwise he’d be complaining about the lack of available chainmail or referring to Merlin as his friend, or at the very least his servant. 

“That’s a very peculiar name, though you’re proving yourself to be an extraordinarily peculiar person,” Arthur replies, taking it in stride. “I’m Arthur.” 

Merlin licks his lips once, summoning the courage to say what he has to next. A look so indecipherable passes over Arthur’s face as he does so, but it’s gone in the next instance. 

“Nice to meet you.” 

It’s intoned pleasantly, blank, with no indication Merlin’s heart is shattering into a million pieces inside.

“Likewise,” Arthur says. 

The irony of this meeting, their second technically even if the other man doesn’t know it, compared to their first doesn’t fail to strike Merlin. It was downright hostile, leading to Merlin experiencing his first of many stays in Camelot’s dungeons. Despite not knowing Merlin, this Arthur still has maintained the regality and maturity he once held as king of this land, so perhaps not all of Merlin’s work has been lost.

A terrifying thought hits him there as they stand just meters apart, finally in one place together, if not in the way Merlin wanted, after all this time: he has no idea where they go from here. 

“Though, it would be awfully rude of me seeing as together we’ve scared all other helpful passerbys and you were feeling unwell for me to abandon you out here now, wouldn’t it?” Arthur poses to Merlin, confident enough to snake an arm around Merlin’s shoulders, having no idea what it does to ground Merlin. “Come on, why don’t I buy you a drink?” 

A shudder of relief passes through Merlin, and Arthur really has no idea how much he’s saved by this simple, friendly proposition. 

“I would like that very much.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Merlin Fic Server Melee Challenge! The word prompt was eyes and I also chose the color prompt beau blue and came up with this about less than 24 hours from when the prompt fill was due...oops. I've never written Merlin in the modern era so let me know what you think! Kudos and comments are always loved and appreciated <3


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